Sand
by star wars for Jesus
Summary: Two years after the events of the novel "Star Wars: Kenobi" (by John Jackson Miller), Obi-Wan Kenobi honors the victims of Order 66.


To all those who have lost their lives for the sake of Christ, and to those who day and night face following in their footsteps:

"_The world—the galaxy, the universe itself—brims with life, verdant with the light of a million souls flickering against the abyss. And yet…why are there so few of us? Why have so many good people, standing as luminous torches before an endless night, been senselessly slaughtered? Their light had yet to shine at its brightest, had yet to reach a glorious zenith in the horizon—but that didn't stop the Empire, apparently. Better to be shrouded in darkness than to have a tiny ember, smoldering patiently in the back of society's mind. Better to snuff them out, extinguish them fully before—"_

"Don't tell me Crazy Old Ben's talking to himself when he could have a captive audience."

At the sound of the voice, Obi-Wan whirled around, hand poised over his lightsaber hilt. A figure was plodding across the dunes, features eclipsed for one brief moment by the brilliance of Tattooine's suns. However, he could tell by the gate—and the curved, flowing silhouette—that the being was female, and ostensibly so. He caught a flash of golden hair as the shape drew closer, weathered face and sharp, green eyes screwed against a scouring wind.

"Ben," she said again, raising a hand to shield her eyes. Head ducked against the wind, she struggled over to his side, touched his arm. "It's…it's me. Annileen."

He stiffened. "Hello there, Annileen. I-"He stopped, words catching in his throat. "I, well, hadn't expected you to return. Ever."

"Me, neither," she admitted ruefully. "But after my studies ended, I felt like something wasn't quite right. Like I wasn't whole, being away from Tattooine." Stooping beside him, she scooped up a handful of sand, letting it fall gently through her fingers. "Like the sand was calling my name or something, you know."

"No, not really…"

She showed him a churlish grin. "Ha. Everyone knows that someone like you could make it off this rock anytime you wanted, and yet you still stay here with…" Her voice trailed off, gaze wandering to the sheet of flimsi in his hands. "What's that, anyway? A poem? A will?"

Stifling a resigned sigh, Obi-Wan stuffed the flimsi sheet he'd been reading from into his tunic—but not before Annileen Calwell had taken notice. She let her hand slip from his arm, snapping it forward to try and wrestle the thing from his grasp. He held onto it for second, clutching it close to his chest, asking the powers-that-be to _please_ keep her from seeing this…and then he let go. Watched indifferently as she snatched the sheet away, skimming over it ravenously with wide eyes.

A tiny gasp escaped her slips. "Ben, is this what I think it is?"

Gaze leaping from hers, he nodded. "Most likely."

"So you're not denying that it's a eulogy, right?"

He closed his eyes. "Right."

Pressing the flimsi to her chest, Annileen took a small step back. Nothing huge, nothing major: just a tiny, nearly imperceptible movement. It only happened to speak volumes to him alone, to the man who'd done everything in his power forge a rift between them, and felt a part of twist at the sight. At the memories it evoked, and the realization that she was totally aware of what she'd done.

But then again…no. No, she hadn't done it deliberately, hadn't meant to crush a piece of his heart. At least, not _consciously:_ from the way she simply stood there, hands drawn to her breast, she looked like she'd reacted unknowingly to something. A invisible ghost she'd seen flare up between them, perhaps. Or maybe she'd noticed him fidgeting, had decided he wasn't quite comfortable with her brushing his side and withdrawn.

Just like he had two years prior, when she'd repeatedly tried to dissolve the chains about his heart.

"Ben?" she prompted quietly.

Shoulders sagging till he thought they touched the sand, Obi-Wan sighed weakly. There was no point in hiding, especially from a woman as perceptive as Annileen. Not anymore, anyway. "Today's sort of an anniversary of…some things."

Her eyes crawled over his features, studying them with steel intensity. "'Some things?' Like when you, you know, met _her_?"

Another wave of emotion roiled, this one dark and tainted and bitter with regret. There wasn't much that Annileen knew about him: she didn't know what he did for a living, where he'd come from, why he was here. Didn't know the name of the child he'd told her about, the one he was trying to hide in this deluge of biting sandstorms. But what he had revealed…that was enough for her to take a guess at parts of his romantic past, of the painful shadows that lingered in the recesses of his thoughts. So the question didn't surprise him, not really. It _jolted_ him, reminding him of the moment Annileen had practically leapt into his arms.

And offered to stay there, forever.

"Not…that," he replied, gaze glued to his boots. He paused as another gust of wind howled past, then continued, "today, I lost nearly everything I held dear. Everyone I love, everyone I cared for…gone. All lost, sacrificed for a cause that's as good as dead."

"'As good as dead's still alive, Ben," she pointed out. Her eyes meeting his, she tentatively reached for him, stroking his back. Let her hand trace up his spine, brushing his neck. Cupped his face in her warm palms, the calloused skin rubbing his beard with a tenderness he'd expect from a different woman. From a woman with softer hands. "And if there's even a spark of life left in it, you should fight for it you all you have. They did, after all, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should never waste a sacrifice. Especially from someone you love."

Suddenly, he felt something wet rolling down his cheek, into her worn, living, breathing hands. _No. No, I can't do this. If she's sees…what will she do, exactly? Think I'm weak? Hold me like some blubbering, snot-nosed kid?_ "I know."

She leaned closer, her breath caressing his moist eyes. "You're not alone—you know that, Ben? Do you know that you still have people—_good_ people—left to live for? That you have people who _love_ you?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to draw her into his chest, let her linger there till the suns had fallen from the horizon, and feel the velvet of her skin under his fingers. Wanted to stay _here_, hopeless lost in her warmth, sheltered against the barrage of stinging wind buffeting his cheeks.

All he managed to get out, though, was "I know."

Because everything—even his voice—had been stolen. Because she had now become a sea, a deluge that could consumed him, left him floundering in her wake. An ocean that could never be his, no matter how felt, or how hard he fought her. After all, the cold thing pressing into his chin wasn't her lips, wasn't the vortex of moist satin he wanted to devour him; it was metal. Inhuman. And it drove a rift between them that was so wide, he didn't think he could even glimpse the real Annileen any longer.

It was a ring.

Hard, animal instinct blared through him, filling his ears with the sound of his own drumming heart. For the first time in his life, things were clear, were transparent and crystalline and _there_. No other choices, no other options for him but to weasel out of her embrace, leaving her stumbling into the sand.

"You're married, aren't you?" he accused, glowering down at her.

Her wet, pleading eyes dropped to her boots. "Ben, I—"

Suddenly, his voice was all durasteel. "Don't you dare lie, Annileen. Not to me."

A fat tear slid over the tip of her nose. "I-I'm engaged."

"To who?"

"I was hoping," she began, then trailed off, choking on what sounded like a muffled sob. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, sniffing. "I was hoping I would be engaged, but it turns out he can't trust me. Here." Jerking off the ring, she chucked it at his face, watching through misty eyes as he side-stepped it. "I don't need it anymore."

As she plodded off, disappearing over the cresting dunes, Obi-Wan fell silent. For a while, he felt as if he couldn't move. Like he couldn't breathe, couldn't will his heart to beat for another second more…but then the feeling passed. Left him crouching on the ground, replaying the image of her retreating shape in his mind till he thought he'd drive himself bonkers.

Annileen…she'd been right. Lots of beings—ones he'd loved, ones he'd never known and never would—had given up their lives so the night would be a little shorter, and he couldn't waste that. Not when there was a distant light, a tiny, tiny child whose soul barely flickered in the abyss.

Not when there was still a code to follow, shouting for his need to let go. Not when there was still a cause worthy of his all, gently whispering his name with the voice of thousands. And not when those voices stilled, filling his mind's eye with the images of martyred blood.

Grabbing a handful of sand, Obi-Wan Kenobi let it slip through his grasp…and watched it lose itself in the Jundland Wastes.

Hebrews 12:1-3: Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.


End file.
